If only you knew that routinely, I feel like I have no control over myself, let alone my life.
If only you knew that I am giving everything I got, and most of the time, my all is just adequate to plow through the day. It is difficult to find the right words to accurately describe to you how my anxiety is out of control.
If only you knew that my anxiety level is like a snowball rolling down the snow-covered hill; it gradually grows within me. Every second the snowball grows in size, the more difficult it is for me to keep control over my own life.
If only you knew that at times, companionship brings me away from that dark void and into the light. However, companionship can only do so much, and after about fifteen minutes, I feel as though the world is collapsing on me, and I could not dig through the rubble to reach the surface. So, does action kill anxiety? I do not think so because what it actually does is distract you from the psychological torture.
If only you knew about and felt the sense of guilt I am experiencing. If only you could understand how it trails behind every mental breakdown of mine.
However, I should feel lucky because I have everything I need. People around me kept reminding me that there are people out there who are less fortunate than me, and thus, I should be happy instead of anxious.
If only you knew about the tears that ran down my cheeks and eventually my chin. The streams that make no sound yet speak volumes about my emotional state, be it joy, anger, or sadness. To say that anxiety is harmless is to say that there exists a universal agreement on the meaning of life and morality.
If only you knew that all is “fine.” If only you knew that it is impossible to seek a satisfactory explanation as to why my anxiety disorder exists. I did not ask for it, and sometimes, I wonder whether this is the journey I have to endure before I get to experience the beauty of authentic living.
If only you knew that the sudden shift from immense joy to overwhelming sadness is as disturbing to me as it is to you.
If only you knew that I am not someone you believe can be repaired. The battles are mine, and so is the war against my anxiety.
If only you knew that I battle each day against doom and gloom so that it does not become an integral part of my identity. If only you knew that on some days,
I admit defeat, but I did not tell you. Perhaps this is why social anxiety is misunderstood most of the time — the victims do not share their stories for fear that people are dismissing anxiety as though they are figments of our imagination.
However, from the bottom of my heart, those are the days I wish you knew how much I need you to comprehend, to be gentle, to be present — to remind me that there are so many things in life to look forward to after this war comes to an end.
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